


Familiarity

by hxilstorm



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, I have no idea how to tag, M/M, Memories, My First Fanfic, Past Relationship(s), Strangers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24403570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hxilstorm/pseuds/hxilstorm
Summary: Wilford starts to notice a man comes into the club every night. He orders a drink, and sits alone. Never speaks to anyone, just watches. Dark misses his old friend and comes to see him dance.
Relationships: Damien | The Mayor/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache, darkstache
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	Familiarity

Wilford Warfstache had gone through many names over the years. He liked to start fresh in each new place he visited, and hey, it wasn’t like he could remember much of what happened during those years, so what was the point in being attached to them. But this new him, with his colourful clothes and his pink afro and his mustache beginning to be the same on the edges, he liked this man. Maybe he’d stay a while. 

There was a club very close to where he resided now, and he would regular there often. There seemed to be new people there every night, perhaps people moved through this town quicker than he’d thought, or maybe it was just because he often neglected to remember their faces. 

However, there always seemed to be one man that Wilford could recall. The man couldn’t quite put his finger on why this man occupied his mind so much. He never seemed to draw anyone else’s attention, only his. Maybe that was intentional, but Wilford couldn’t make sense of it. 

The man always sat in a booth, completely on his own. He never once brought anyone with him, nor did he attempt to get anyone to sit with him. He always wore a dark suit, always neat and never wrinkled. Every aspect of his appearance seemed intentional, styled exactly to his liking and never straying. He would arrive shortly after Wilford did, would go to the bar and buy a drink, and then would sit in his booth the whole time Wilford was there. The man never locked eyes with Wilford, but once when he had turned to look at the mysterious man, he was quick enough to catch him purposely looking away from him. Somehow he was alluring, and Wilford was beginning to want answers. 

So that night as Wilford carefully buttoned up his pink silk shirt, he planned to speak with him. The man usually preferred to be the one that other people approached, rather than being the one to initiate a conversation. But it had been weeks and it didn’t seem like the man was going to be the one to reach out first. Wilford would have to do it himself. 

The club felt fuller that night when Wilford walked through the doors. Perhaps there was some sort of deal happening that night, or perhaps it was just him. Maybe he was just...nervous. It felt strange to use that word. Wilford was a grown man, why should he feel nervous about going to talk to someone he’d been meaning to. Maybe it was because he was afraid of fucking this up. 

Wilford was startled to see that the man was already there when he arrived. Usually he didn’t come for at least another half hour after Wilford would usually arrive. But a quick look at his watch told the man that he himself was an hour later than he normally was. Huh. 

The mystery man looked up when he saw that Wilford had arrived, and the two locked eyes for a brief moment. Then the man in the suit became preoccupied with his drink once again. Wilford shook his head, and took a breath before he began the short walk over to where the man was sitting. Then the words seemed to escape faster than Wilford could think them out. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

_ Fuck. _

But the man seemed strangely unfazed. Instead of looking offended or confused, he simply stood up and extended his hand out to Wilford. He realised now that the man walked with a cane, as he picked it up as he stood and he was now leaning on it as if it hurt him to stand. 

“I’m Dark,” the man introduced himself with a small smile, and Wilford took his hand and shook it. It was much colder than he anticipated it to be, and he shivered noticeably, making the man...Dark, give a small laugh. As if he got this reaction often and it was amusing to him. 

“Wilford Warfstache,” Wilford said in return, finally taking back his hand. The man simply nodded.

Somehow this felt familiar. Wilford was certain that he had never met this man before in his life, but there was a small part of him that was telling him that that smile, that laugh, it was familiar. But how? 

“Have we met before?” Wilford asked, his expression uncertain. 

Dark seemed to lose his smile for a moment, but he quickly replaced it, although it seemed much less sincere now. He simply shook his head. And so Wilford shrugged it off. He held out his hand to Dark, put this time with his palm up rather than ready to shake the other man’s hand. Dark stared at it for a moment with confusion, before looking back up at Wilford.

“Come dance with me,” Wilford offered to the other man, clarifying what he meant. “I’ve seen you sit here for weeks, but you’ve never once actually had some proper fun.” 

Dark’s smile returned at those words, his genuine one. His eyes seemed to twinkle with joy. Carefully, he leaned his cane on the table, and took Wilford’s hand, trying to ignore how it pained him. Wilford felt the rush of cold go over him again as their hands touched. 

Wilford led Dark onto the dancefloor, just as a strangely slow song began to play. They would often do this a few times a night, allowing a romantic dance for couples that came together, or people who were starting to hit it off with each other, no matter their intentions. A smile formed on Wilford’s lips. 

Wilford placed his hand on Dark’s back, and held his other hand, their elbows pointed outwards. Dark placed his free hand on Wilford’s shoulder, and Wilford could feel the other man leaning on him slightly, but he didn’t mind. Perhaps he’d had some sort of injury, because standing seemed to be painful for him. Regardless, Wilford began to lead them, dancing the waltz that he must have learnt at some point in his life. Dark seemed to know what to do as well, and the two danced, counting their steps carefully. 

This too felt familiar, somehow. There was some faint memory, something just like this. 

_ Two men stood in a living room, the couches pushed to the side so that there was room in the middle of the room. There was a radio placed upon a shelf, playing a slow song.  _

_ The two men danced to it, slowly teaching each other how to dance. Occasionally one of them would misstep, stand on the other’s foot, or miss a cue. The other was always there to fix the mistake.  _

_ And the two men laughed, bright grins on their lips as they danced, so happy and so in love.  _

Wilford blinked, this sudden memory shocking him momentarily. He looked up at Dark, and that familiarity panged at his heart. Maybe he had once danced with a man, long ago, and that man had looked just like Dark. But it had slipped his mind long ago. 

Dark gave Wilford a smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. He had never met this man before, and yet he somehow knew that he could trust him, that he would keep him safe. Perhaps it was meant to be. 

Neither of them knew who leaned in first, but the two men connected their lips just as the song ended. And Wilford smiled into it, because this felt good, this felt right. It felt like the pieces were finally starting to come together, the part of him that he had been missing for so long. 

**Author's Note:**

> And this is my first fanfic on here!! I'm planning to do more, so please let me know of any critiques you guys have on this!


End file.
